Dark Shadow
by Sehlki
Summary: SPOILERS THROUGH SEASON 3 The group in the prison is dwindling; the threat from the Governor is rising. Daryl has been forced into leading the group in the wake of Rick's hallucinations. But when a new member joins the group, things will change. The Walkers march ever onward in a growing herd that threatens to turn the prison into a tomb. "Only the dead have seen the end of war."


_T-Dog dead. Carol dead. Lori dead. The air is full of death, the stench lingering long past the smell has disappeared. Rick is seeing ghosts. Tensions are running high and the little group is facing the threat of another attack from the Governor. Soon the prison won't be a stronghold, but a tomb. _

* * *

The woods around the prison were silent. It wasn't an easy, restful silence but a tense one as if the entire forest was waiting for something to happen. The birds did not sing and even the squirrels seemed to have taken refuge somewhere else. The only sound, and a faint one at that, was that of bugs humming in the distance. It was early in the day still, morning haze still not yet burned off. It was through this early fog that Daryl crept slowly, crossbow lifted and prepared to fire. His body was loose, muscles relaxed yet ready to spring into action in a moment's notice. One long finger casually lay beside the trigger of the crossbow and Daryl's head-tilt was almost lazy. His lips curled upwards slightly as he saw a squirrel dart through the tree branches and he lifted the crossbow instantly. However, the thick growth of leaves prevented a clear shot and it wasn't worth the possible waste of a bolt. Slowly, Daryl lowered the crossbow.

It had been several weeks since he and Merle had returned to the prison and he still couldn't shake the sense of unease that lingered in the air like ash after a fire. Everyone was on edge around Merle and Merle in turn constantly growled and hissed about the other members of the group. The only time Daryl could find peace now was when he was hunting. Even then, he was never alone. Maggie prowled thirty feet away from him…back up in case of a stray Walker. Still, the girl was quiet and that suited Daryl fine.

There was a snap in the woods ahead and Daryl froze, instantly lifting the crossbow and transforming from a languid hunter to one ready to strike. There was a flash of dark brown and then it disappeared into the bushes. Silence fell again but this silence was far from settled. Daryl glanced sidelong at Maggie, who had frozen as well and lifted her gun, ready to fire. Slowly, Daryl stalked forward, slowly and stealthily through the undergrowth. Carefully, he found the most silent places to put his feet, guiding his body easily along a quiet path. There was another snap and this time, a black shadow flashed through the undergrowth.

The hairs on the back of Daryl's neck rose and the instinct of the hunt prickled through his entire body. He signaled to Maggie and she moved quickly to him. Back to back, they stood silently. Watching. Daryl's eyes picked out another flicker of movement, but it was fast. Too fast for a Walker. Whatever it was though, it was stalking. It was hunting. Daryl moved his finger slowly to the trigger of his crossbow, his eyes seeking through the shadow and trying to find the animal again but in the shifting shadows of the trees and the thick underbrush, visibility was low. Still, there was another flash of white and that was enough for Daryl. Whatever was moving in the bushes, every instinct he had was screaming that it was a threat.

A low growl rippled out from the bushes and Daryl felt Maggie tense up. Wild animals were few and far between but when they appeared, they were usually starving, which meant they were dangerous. His piercing blue eyes searched the bushes and slowly, he stalked forward. Each step was carefully placed and he was about to fire the crossbow when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. It was a good thing too.

The end of a staff collided with the side of his head and send him reeling backwards, the crossbow lowering for an instant as he tried to regain his footing. Maggie had instantly turned to fight back but before she could fire at Daryl's attacker, a large shape leapt from the bushes and knocked Maggie over hard. Daryl rolled and simultaneously came up on one knee, firing at his attacker. The crossbow bolt shot past the lean figure and Daryl pulled his knife out. On his feet now, he squared off with his attacker though the figure was so covered with dirt and filth, Daryl couldn't tell if it was male or female. It crouched low, wielding the staff protectively.

Daryl glanced sidelong at Maggie swiftly. She was still on the ground, a massive Rottweiler pinning her down. The creature was snarling, lips pulled back and saliva dripping from its jaw which was inches from her throat. His eyes shot back to the figure in front him. His eyes searched the green eyes staring back at him from underneath a black hood and instead of those of a killer, Daryl saw only fear. Raw, animalistic fear that was driving this attack. Daryl ducked as the staff was swung viciously at his head, sidestepped and lunged forward. He hit his attacker from the side, his fist connecting hard with the person's face. They crumpled and fell instantly.

Within seconds, the Rottweiler had leapt off Maggie and positioned itself over the fallen body of Daryl's attacker, a low growl rumbling in its throat. Maggie scrambled to her feet and grabbed her gun, bringing it to her shoulder and preparing to shoot, but Daryl snapped out a hand to stop her.

When his attacker had fallen, the hood had slipped back and exposed the person's face. Apparently his attacker was a woman, though beneath the dirt and grime smeared all over her cheeks and forehead, it was nearly impossible to tell. If it weren't for the long eyelashes that lay against her cheeks, the full lips and the high cheekbones, Daryl would have put money on her being a Walker or some other monster. She smelled like death. The stench of rotting flesh was in the air. But she was alive and he had just knocked her unconscious.

"Daryl, the dog almost killed me," Maggie growled under her breath, taking aim again but Daryl shook his head.

"If you hit the dog, you could hit her…"

His response was absent, automatic. Daryl was analyzing the entire situation with a hunter's mind. He had seen brown fur as well as the black blur, which meant that there was one attacker left unaccounted for. Where was it…? As if on cue, a shaggy German Shepherd burst from the trees, instantly moving to cover the girl as well. The two dogs crouched over the prostrate woman, growling and snarling. Plowing a hand through his shaggy hair, Daryl glanced over at Maggie in frustration. He couldn't leave the woman alone out here – he had knocked her unconscious and leaving her alone would guarantee her death.

"Go back to the prison – get Glenn and have him bring two snare poles."

"Rick won't like –"

"Rick has been wandering his fucking ass off and seeing ghosts. He ain't in charge right now."

Maggie stared at him with a defiant expression on her face for a long time but eventually turned and began sprinting back to the prison. Daryl slowly walked towards the bushes, knife gripped tightly in one hand and his eyes on the two dogs who crouched protectively over the fallen woman. His hand searched the bushes for the crossbow bolt and once his searching fingers had found it, Daryl straightened and re-notched the crossbow. Then he settled with his back against a tree to wait. The dogs seemed to have no intention of leaving the woman but that didn't mean he would be relaxing his guard anytime soon.

The minutes slid by slowly but Daryl didn't lower the bow for a second. His entire body was tuned to the sounds of the forest. The rhythmic breathing of the dogs, the low growls, the hum of the bugs in the background…and the snapping of twigs accompanied by Glenn's voice, asking Maggie why they were dragging snare poles through the forest. Daryl glanced sidelong at Glenn and Maggie as they came through the forest. Glenn took one look at the dogs by the woman's body and groaned.

"Fuck, Daryl…"

"Get the dogs. I'll get the girl."

Glenn glanced at Maggie, silently questioning why they were doing this. Maggie shrugged and looked over at Daryl who was watching them expectantly. Hesitantly, Maggie stepped forward and looped the snare around the Rottweiler's neck. Instantly the dog leapt forward with a throaty growl, teeth snapping. The German Shepherd growled and snapped at Daryl's feet, seemingly torn between attempting to free the Rottweiler and protecting the fallen woman. Glenn took his chance, snaring the dog and pulling it off the woman. Bending down quickly, Daryl scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

It took three times longer than usual to return to the camp. The dogs were barking and growling the entire way, fighting against the snares to the point where they were almost being choked by them. The sounds were attracting Walkers and several times, Daryl had to drop the unconscious woman and fight them off. By the time they arrived back at the prison, it was nearly midday and Glenn and Maggie were exhausted from hauling the fighting dogs. Carl stood by the gate to open it but froze when he saw the snarling dogs.

"Daryl, what –"

"Open the gates."

After a moment, Carl dragged them open and stepped back to let them into the front yard. His gaze followed the dogs uneasily.

"Dad's not going to like this."

Daryl ignored him, carrying the woman up into the prison, immediately yelling for Hershel. The girl had been down for too long. Yes, he had punched her with the intent to knock her out…but this had been over an hour. Something was wrong. Inside the prison, Beth came running with Hershel close behind her. She skittered to a stop when she saw the dogs and looked around in confusion. Daryl ignored her and brought the unconscious woman into one of the cells, laying her down on the bed while glancing over his shoulder at Glenn and Maggie.

"Toss those dogs in one of the cells! Hershel, we found her in the woods…she attacked…I knocked her out. Hasn't woken up since."

Hershel nodded slowly and sat down on the chair next to the bed, gingerly touching the woman and looking her over.

"She's extremely weak and malnourished. The hit on the head was probably the final straw. We need to get fluids into her…" Hershel trailed off and looked the woman over. "Looks like she's covered herself in Walker blood…dirt, mud… Everything to blend in. Surprised you didn't shoot her on sight."

Daryl shouldered the crossbow with a shrug, "Would have but the dogs complicated things." He stepped out of the cell and glanced over to where the dogs were barking and flinging themselves against the bars. "Fuck…" He rubbed his temples and kicked at the bars. "Shut up, bitches." Maybe he should have left them all in the woods.


End file.
